The Water is Wide
by Rachel Sayre
Summary: In this version not only does the ship not sink, but Rose and Cal are already married. How will that affect her decision to stay with Jack? What will Cal do to try and stop her? And what happens once the reality of life outside of the first class world fully hits Rose?


**AN: I haven't abandoned my other story. I just really wanted to get this idea started. I glossed over some of what happens in the movie because, well, we all know how it goes. I went more into Rose's thoughts and changed the dialogue a little at times. **

"Don't do it."

Rose whipped her head around to see who had spoken. She was surprised to see a good-looking young man. Sandy blonde hair fell over bright blue eyes. He stood at a distance, a cigarette in his hand. "Stay back," she said, her voice shaking. She turned and looked down. "I mean it. I'll let go." He slowly inched forward before tossing the cigarette into the water. "No, you won't," he said calmly, looking into her face.

"What do you mean no, I won't?" she cried, outraged. "Don't presume to tell me what I will and will not do. You don't know me!"

"Well, you woulda done it already," he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"You're distracting me! Go away!"

But he didn't.

….

"It's my whole world, and all the people in it. And the inertia of my life! It's plunged ahead, and I was powerless to stop it." She held out her left hand. A large diamond ring sat beneath a thick wedding band. "God, lookat that thing," Jack said, laughter in his voice. "You'da gone straight to the bottom."

"We've only been married eight months, and it feels like eight decades," she said, sounding as though she were talking to herself rather than to him. "I'll be the Queen of Philadelphia Society, but I just feel like I'm standing in the middle of a crowded room screaming, and no-one even looks up." Her eyes were wide, almost pleading. Jack studied her face. "Do you love 'im?" he asked.

"Pardon me?"

"Do you love him?"

"Well, you're being very rude. You shouldn't be asking me this."

"It's a simple question. Do you love the guy or not? Why did you marry him?"

"You are rude and uncouth and presumptuous—This is not a suitable conversation at all," Rose said. "You don't know me, and I don't know you, and we are not having this conversation at all." She held out her hand for him to shake. "Jack—Mr. Dawson, it's been a pleasure. I sought you out to thank you, and now I have thanked you—"

He grinned. "And you've insulted me."

"Well," she said, slightly stunned, "You deserved it." She tried to let go of his hand but couldn't. She didn't want to let go of it; she didn't want to leave, either. But she couldn't stay. Could she?

…..

"Why can't I be like you, Jack?" Rose said wistfully. "Just head out for the horizon whenever I feel like it. Say we'll go there sometime, to that pier. Even if we only ever just talk about it." Jack grinned. "No, we'll do it," he said. "We'll drink cheap beer. We'll ride the roller coaster 'til we throw up." She laughed. It was such an absurd notion, and yet she wished fervently that it could happen. "And we'll ride horses on the beach," he said. "Right in the surf. But you gotta do it like a real cowboy, none of that side saddle stuff."

"You mean…one leg on each side?" she asked, incredulous.

"Yeah."

"Can you show me?"

"Sure. If you like."

Rose smiled. "Teach me to ride like a man," she said. Jack took on a thick country accent. "And chew tobacco like a man," he said. Rose searched for an appropriate response. "And—and _spit_ like a man," she said, failing to fully imitate his accent.

"What, they didn't teach you that in finishing school?"

"No!"

"Well, c'mon, I'll show you," he said, taking her hand. She half-heartedly fought his attempt to lead her. "Jack, no!" she cried through clenched teeth. "Wait, Jack! I couldn't possibly, Jack!" But she did.

….

Rose's heart pounded. It was dangerous meeting Jack like this. Just accepting the note was dangerous, but actually coming here, to him, that carried a whole new level of risk. She didn't know exactly what Cal would do if he found out, but she could imagine it. And yet, she didn't care. A force stronger than fear pulled her toward Jack. When he turned around and smiled she couldn't help but smile back.

"Wanna go to a real party?" he asked.

"Yes," she heard herself say.

Jack offered her his arm, and she accepted it gratefully. As soon as she touched him, her fear began melting away. Being near him made her so…happy. It was like nothing she had ever experienced before. It wouldn't last. How could it? But she was going to try and enjoy it while she had it. She pushed away thoughts of Cal; for a few hours, he wouldn't exist. Besides, he would never know. Who would tell him? He had no reason to send Lovejoy after her, and she would be back in her room long before he returned to his.

"We're gonna have to get a little bit closer," Jack said, putting his hand on her back. "Like this," he explained, pulling her toward him. She gasped; all she could do was stare at him, shocked. He grinned, and the dance began. "I don't know the steps," she said.

"Neither do I. Just go with it!"

Their bodies were so close; their stomachs pressed together. She could smell him. His hair smelled of soap and the sear air, his skin like a mixture of sweat, tobacco, soap, and the sea. It was a nice scent. There was something familiar about it. Jack was solid, even down to his scent, and it was comforting. Cal smelled of hair tonics, colognes, and expensive soaps. The purpose of his grooming rituals and potions was to make him more attractive, but Rose was repulsed by it. His skin was soft, but his hands were hard when they touched her. There was nothing easy about the way he held her. It was more like a man trying to keep something from escaping than a man embracing his wife.

Jack's arm was loose around her. Removing her hand from his would have been easy. He held her just close enough to show he wanted her. In fact, he wanted to pull her closer, to press her to him and fully breathe in the scent of her hair. But he didn't. He couldn't. She was someone else's wife, and it was bad enough he had asked her to come.

_But I didn't __**make**__ her come here….She's not happy. _

Rose laughed as they began to spin. "Jack, no!" she yelled, making no attempt to move away from him. She was to beautiful in that moment, more so than he had realized. His laughter mingled with hers.

_I could make her happy._

…..

Rose knew something was wrong the moment she stepped into the room for breakfast. She hated having meals alone with Cal, but both he and her mother insisted upon it. He watched her cross the room and sit down. They began eating in tense silence.

"I hoped to see you again last night," he said.

"I was tired." She kept her voice and expression flat. Sometimes it made things easier, although there was no way of knowing how he would react to anything. Sometimes, he seemed to hate it when she cried or showed fear or pain. He was quick to apologize then, to offer explanations and gifts to make it up to her. Of course, his explanations always centered on how she had provoked him and how it wasn't his fault. "I hit you, because I love you," he had once said, and she had never forgotten it. It didn't make things any better, but in a twisted way, it made sense. After those incidents, he would be particularly nice to her for a while. However, there were other times when he seemed to _enjoy_ her suffering.

"Your exertions below deck were no doubt exhausting," he said, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Rose didn't why know she did it. Maybe it was the memory of Jack's arms around her and how safe she felt next to him. "I see you had that manservant of your follow me. How typical," she said coolly, looking him in the eye. "I'm not a foreman in one of your mills that you can command." Her voice rose slightly. "I'm your wife."

He stared at her. "My—wife—" he sputtered. His voice became a yell. "My wife!" She froze in fear as he flipped the table over with one hand. "Yes, you are!" he went on, lunging toward her. "And you _will _honor me." She struggled to breathe. His face was inches from hers; his fingers dug into her arms. "You will honor me the way a wife is required to honor a husband," he said, a menacing softness in his tone. She lifted her chin and stared into his eyes. His lip curled, and he opened his mouth to speak but didn't. Instead, he turned and left.

….

"Jack, I can't see you," Rose said, moving to go back outside. "Please," he said desperately. "Rose…" She tried to look away from his eyes but couldn't. "Let me get this out," he pleaded. "You're no picnic. You're a spoiled little brat, even, but under that, you're the most amazingly, astoundingly wonderful girl—woman, that I've ever known. I'm not an idiot. I know how the world works. I've got ten bucks in my pocket, and _nothing_ to offer you, and I know that! I understand. But I'm too involved now. You jump, I jump, remember? I can't turn away without knowing you'll be alright."

"I'm fine," she said shakily. "I'll be fine."

"Really? Because I don't think so. They've got you trapped, Rose, and you're gonna die if you don't break free. Maybe not right away because you're strong, but sooner or later, that fire that I love about you Rose—" He stroked her cheek with his thumb. She knew she should tell him to stop, but she didn't want him to. "That fire is gonna burn out," he finished. She placed her hand on his, and he paused, waiting to see what she would do next. Everything was in her hands, she realized. If she told him to go away and leave her alone forever, he would, and that's what she had to tell him to do. But instead she said, "I can't keep living this way."

"You don't have to."

She laughed. "Is it so simple? I wish it was."

"It is," he insisted. He took her face in his hands. It was a struggle not to kiss her. "What, you'll just take me with you?" she asked. "A spoiled little brat would certainly be an asset in your travels."

"Are you saying you'd go with me? You want to?"

If she said yes, out loud, there was no going back. She just wouldn't be able to go back, to keep living as Cal's wife. She moved closer to him. His gaze moved from her eyes to her lips and back again. The kiss was tentative at first; it slowly built in passion. Rose never wanted it to stop. She pressed her hand against the back of his neck. Jack's hands moved from her fact to her arms. He gave them a light squeeze, intending to move on to her waist, but her flinch of pain stopped him.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked.

"No," she said, with a shake of her head. "Of course not."

"You flinched," he pressed.

"It was nothing, really. I was just…overwhelmed. I—" She sucked in her breath as he pressed down on her upper arm, slightly harder than before. "I'm sorry," he said. "But don't say that didn't hurt. I just wanna know why."

"Can we not talk about it? Please, Jack, just leave it alone. It isn't important."

But he couldn't let it go. "He did it, didn't he?" he asked. Rose avoided his eyes. It was bad enough it had even happened, but having to talk about it was unbearable. Shame washed over her. Was she so weak she not only allowed herself to be pushed into a marriage she didn't want but also couldn't protect herself? But she had tried, hadn't she? Fighting him only made it worse, and her attempts to discuss the problem with her mother had all failed. Ruth always said she was exaggerating and scolded her for not behaving properly, and ended the lecture by telling her not to bring it up again. "He hits you, doesn't he?" Jack went on.

"I don't want to talk about it," she said. "Don't ask me to."

Emotions struggled within him—anger, frustration, sadness. He pressed his cheek against her hair and hugged her tightly. "You don't have to talk about it," he said. "And it won't happen again."


End file.
